I’ve always shouted from the mountain tops that the idea of “the one” doesn’t exist. The concept of having only one person in life to share experiences with and expand on your love doesn’t do it for me–I’d much rather believe in Santa. My current boyfriend wasn’t too fond of my dating philosophy as it got me in trouble on our third date–but he stuck it out–obviously, we just moved in together (10 months later).
It’s not to say I don’t believe in love or the idea of loving someone for a very long time–I just don’t subscribe to the theory that we were made to “ride it out” until death do us part with one individual–we’re not penguins–and that’s not a bad thing. It’s quite hopeful, really. But don’t get this mixed up with my thoughts on cheating because I do believe in staying faithful to your partner, and with open communication established early on in the relationship–you can beat the odds–we all know cheating is never about the sex–or is it?
So let’s do a little digging into my past to see if any of this babble has merit.
In 1994 (in Texas) I entered into my first relationship–I was in love–and it lasted 5 years. I broke it off because there was some abuse going on towards the end and I walked away. Not the first time–but eventually. Never again. Oh, it’s that whole Rihanna and Cris Brown thing. I get it.
Then in 2001, (Brooklyn, NY) I met my first Pakistani. Now that was some Bollywood romance shit! We “loved us” into a whole set of new problems. The whole–a Muslim can’t be gay–broke us up and the guilt he felt knowing Allah was watching him tongue a Mexican was too much for him to take. But that was love, right?
Then in 2003, (Brooklyn, NY) I met my 2nd Pakistani. Now that was really some Bollywood romance shit–again! And that wasn’t the only thing that repeated–the whole Allah in the closet thing came up and I had to get out. Whew.
Then in 2004 I met Joe. He was my first grown-up love/relationship and we were going to live happily ever after, until I walked in on him screwing the brains out of one of our “friends” one Sunday afternoon. I made an unexpected return back home and got the shock of my life. He got my foot up his ass–but I loved him. Maybe he just didn’t love me?
And now, 2010, I met Big Daddy. That’s right folks, do the math–single for six years. I needed a break. I needed a breather. I needed to whore it up! And I did it all–with great fanfare. Although my address in Brooklyn was 1806, gay men on Craigslist knew it as The Moulin Rouge. And then–after a karma reader told me to stop dating, stop having sex, stop looking for any type of relationship for 6 six months–I stopped; I follower her instructions. She said that on the sixth month, if I had been focusing on my career, my finances, on ME–that “he would appear” out of nowhere. And poof, just like that–he did. Thank God for Grindr! And it’s been a great, fun ride ever since because Big Daddy is an amazing person; some of you know him, many of you follow him on facebook and twitter–and the guy oozes sweetness, candy canes, and sunflowers. What’s he doing with me?
Conclusion–despite my problems with the guys in the past–it was love. Some would argue–that it wasn’t love. And maybe they’re right, but why does my definition of love have to be based on yours? But each “love” brought me closer to Big Daddy. And according to the laws of love that we are trending–I should have given up on romance and started collecting cats. So with all this talk about love I can’t help but wonder, “Does there come a point when we should listen to society and feel like losers because we’re single and our choices keep breaking us up, or should we not give up on love, and instead, love ourselves even more–but realize that break ups do bring us closer to reality?”
How do you see break ups? Leave a comment.